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Golden Brown

In a recent post we shared with you the awesome array of flower stems of the New Zealand Flax – Phormium Tenax. After last year’s no-show (too dry), the plants were rested : then, this summer, the weather and soil conditions (warm and damp) have proved to be perfect for these magnificent plants. For visitors to the walled garden, the magnificent display has become quite a conversation-starter!

Most visitors say they’ve never seen or heard of them (even those from Devon and Cornwall – where we know there’s plenty in private gardens). A family of Kiwis were struck dumb when faced with their own ignorance that these majestic plants are native to New Zealand!

A few visitors have shown off their horticultural knowledge of the species, quoting not only the botanical name, but also some named varieties, preferred conditions, and so-on. And a very, very few – understanding the significance of the ‘Flax’, have asked if we strip the long fibres from the leaves and spin them into a yarn : we answer – ‘The Maori’s had no easier alternative – but we do!’

Keeping the plants in good shape – removing dead or damaged leaves, flower stems leaning across paths – is heavy work. The long tough fibres that give the plant its extraordinary resilience also make it difficult to break up still-green leaves and flower-stems. We use a heavy-duty garden shredder – though even that often chokes on the toughest leaves. The job requires strength and technical know-how, and invariably seems to involve getting very dirty. Work that big J seems to love !!!

After a recent afternoon of NZF work, J showed me his hands (and lower arms) – stained a golden colour from handling the mash that remains after the shredding. ‘And that’s after soaking and scrubbing severeal times!’. That got us wondering …

Jonathan’s hands stained from handling seed pods of New Zealand Flax.

Denise harvesting flower stems from New Zealand Flax.

New Zealand Flax flower stems with ripe seed pods.

Bosch 2.4kW garden crusher.

Crushing seed pods from New Zealand Flax.

Yesterday, with a number of the heaviest flower stems flailing across the drive and near the washing line, we decided to put them through the big Bosch crusher. After a trial of one flower stem processed as-cut, we pressed crushed material from various parts of the flower stem, and soon found that the colour was strongest in the seed pods and the bracts that carry them. We then continued processing stems and fruit separately, the stems going to the compost heap, and the crushed fruit into a dye bucket.

Crushed seed pods of New Zealand Flax in dye bucket.

Wetting skeins with four different mordants.

In the dyehouse, I’d already put four half-skeins of Cheviot wool, previously mordanted with Rhubarb, Alum, Iron, and Copper, to soak in water.

After boiling the berries for an hour or so, J and I poured the hot contents of the bucket through a sieve, returned the mahogany-brown dye liquor to the heat, and then immersed the four pre-mordanted, hydrated skeins.

Later, having rinsed the skeins thoroughly, here they are drying on the line.

You’ll see there’s scarce any difference between the four skeins – even though the difference between the skeins before dyeing was so obvious and characteristic of the mordant used. The explanation for this is that the concentration of dye liquor was so strong, and its ability to fix to the mordant so good, that the resulting colour completely overwhelms all other factors. That in turn suggests that the same batch of dye liquor could be used for successive dye-lots, each a shade paler than the previous lot, and each more characteristic of the mordant, too. The proof of that particular pudding will, however, have to wait for a future experiment : for now, we’re so pleased with this striking new colour that we’re happy to make more of the same intensity.

If we ever had any doubt that the value of New Zealand Flax as wind-break and ‘architectural’ features of the garden was insufficient to justify the hard work in keeping them in order, then that’s now completely dispelled. So too any guilt about not spinning the fibres and weaving them, or whatever. The ripe fruit are an extremely potent dye-stuff, and can be fixed easily using the liquor from rhubarb leaves.

J > Ah, but there’s the rub of the matter. No matter how methodically used, plant dyes are subject to the variability of natural materials – wool, mordant, dyestuff and many other factors (and behind some of those three, the soil and weather and genetics!) make for variability in colour – and therefore every skein is unique. That’s the joy of natural dyeing!

Having lived in NZ for so many years NZ flax has become one of my pet hates but who knew you could use them as a dyes, and a fantastic coloured dye at that. Every day I learn something in the blogosphere. Thanks.

The color is beautiful! I never knew about NZ flax, but I always loved growing the European flax when we lived in NJ. It is an super huge job to get those fibers out and ready for spinning. I have never heard of using rhubarb as a mordant. I just recently read about using soy milk to mordant cotton fibers before natural dyeing. I would love to try the rhubarb! (Do you use the stalks or the leaves?)

D > Soy milk as mordant makes for expensive yarn! Rhubarb leaves (for that is what is used) would otherwise go on the compost. Boil up for an hour so, and then strain the liquor off, and then leave to dry completely (if storing for later use), or to uniformly just-damp if using immediately. The rhubarb does colour white yarn to a pale drab sand colour, so most useful for fuller-toned colours.

Yes, I agree that soy milk would make an expensive mordant. Thanks for the instructions on the rhubarb. If my gmama oats don’t nibble the rest of the leaves off, I will make some up. I usually only have silver and grey year to dye, so I will see how that goes!

Very interesting for me as a New Zealander to see the dye being made from the the berries. There are groups of Maori today working hard on keeping alive the old traditions of stripping the fibres from the leaves and making fine fabric from these threads, all done by hand – which takes hours and hours. They start by soaking the leaves in water for days, in the local creeks and swamps. Then they spin the thread by hand, then weave by hand. A tribe or village needed to be prosperous and well organised to be able to spare enough people to do all this work. It still takes a lot of organisation and people today.

D > That’s a very interesting comment. Although very very different plants, the fibres from both NZF and European Flax are processed in very similar ways – and are similarly very labour-intensive, have become very much a cornerstone of culture – most obviously in New Zealand. J and I would love to visit NZ – but not for bungee-jumping or any of the other usual tourist activities, but on a fibre and fabric tour!

Google New Zealand flax weaving for visitors. I found tourist flax weaving centres mentioned for Rotorua, Nelson, Taupo and Taranaki, just for starters. The Rangimarie Hetet centre was founded by Rangimarie who was a noted weaver who passed away a few years ago, in her nineties. She had been taught by the old women in her tribe who knew the old traditional knowledge of flax. You may also be interested in the New Zealand “flax library” being maintained by the Department of Conservation, to keep as many species of New Zealand going as possible.